He was a businessman, running not just The Club, but also overseeing the various businesses his father had left him, as well as the multitude of other interests. His life was often fast-paced, filled with on-demand questions, answers, and lightning-fast business reflexes. He thrived on it. Craved it. But the stress level often became tremendous.
It was then that Ian found his sexuality rose to the fore. He began to hunger, to need the excesses he found such enjoyment in. In all honesty, he would have found relief for that by now, if it had been any other woman. He had dated the innocents, hell, he had even bedded several women whom he had known were not cut out for the life he lived. And he had always, without fail, found his ultimate satisfaction, the relief of the building stress, the loneliness, the need to just f**king give, when he was helping to send a lover to the very pinnacles of ecstasy.
It was where he hungered to send Courtney.
It was beginning to torture him, to torment him. He was beginning to fear he couldn’t hold out much longer.
“Let’s make a little bet.” Cole’s voice drew him back from his own musings.
“What kind of bet?” Ian narrowed his eyes on his longtime friend.
“Ten thousand says she pushes you into it. That she does something that shatters all that careful control you’re forcing on yourself, and before you know it, you’ll have her tied and blindfolded, screaming for mercy while you and a third work her over. Another ten says you choose Khalid.”
Ian snorted. Khalid was a given. None of the other Trojans, save for Cole, understood that particular kink.
Hell, the first was a given. He was f**ked and he knew it. The only question was how much longer he could possibly hold out. He was actually beginning to pray that Dane got a clue and arrived quickly.
“Go to hell.”
“Bet still stands. Club rules. I set the challenge, it’s up to you to make or break it. Time allowances.” Cole narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “I’ll make it easy for you. A week.”
Could he hold out a week? Sure he could. A week would be easy. Especially after the phone call to Dane that he intended to make. Ian wasn’t above admitting he was drowning in a puddle of his own making.
“A week,” he agreed as Cole rose to his feet, a mocking smile tilting his lips.
“Damn. I have to come to The Club more often. This could get amusing,” he snickered as he moved to the door. “Good luck, buddy. And no padding your own bet. I wouldn’t be pleased.”
“Meaning?” Ian rose slowly to his own feet.
“Meaning. If you call Dane, all bets are off, and I make certain your sweet little innocent learns some amazing home truths. Tess is good at having loose lips when the need arises.” Cole turned back and saluted him, mocking. “‘Night, Ian.”
Ian’s fists clenched. If the son of a bitch weren’t his best friend, he would kill him.
Chapter Eight
Ian was pacing the floor at midnight when Courtney hadn’t returned to the house. At one o clock, he was cursing and nursing a stiff whisky. At two in the morning he had enough. He knew Tally too well. She was an instigator and determined to torture and torment the men she knew. She drove her husbands crazy at the office, and when they could take no more she conspired with the other women to make their husbands’ lives hell.
She was continually thinking of ways sneak into The Club without Devril or Lucian, and even worse, she was sneaking the other women in. Forget about just asking, the woman thought she had to play f**king commando.
At three that morning, the limo pulled into the driveway in front of the Conover mansion. Every light in the lower level of the house appeared to be on as Ian strode up the front steps. As the butler opened the door, a scowl on his taciturn face, Ian could hear the pulsing beat of Depeche Mode pounding through the house.
“Sir. Misters Conover have retired to that attic, I believe, for the safety of their eardrums.” It was evident Devril and Lucian had left the brawny ex-bouncer, Tim, to keep an eye out for the mayhem developing.
“I’ll collect Ms. Mattlaw.” He was forced to raise his voice by several levels as he stepped into the house and headed for the family room.
As he stepped to the doorway, he stopped in horror.
Dear God, they were all there.
Tally Conover, Tess Andrews, Ella and Terrie Wyman, Kimberly… He swallowed tightly as he watched the women toasting each other as they lay sprawled on the floor, more than a few empty bottles of wine thrown to the side. Within seconds they polished off the glasses they had just toasted each other with.
Courtney was drunk.
She polished off the wine then sprawled on her back, obviously speaking, though he doubted anyone could hear her.
He strode to the other side of the room and flipped the power switch to the CD player quickly.
“…and then he’ll be putty in your hands…” Kimberly Raddington was laughing with glee as she leaned close to a wide-eyed Courtney, her voice echoing eerily in the near-silent room.